


Please, Master Me

by MistressPandora



Category: Lord John Series - Diana Gabaldon, Outlander & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bottom John Grey, Cock Warming, Collars, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Feeding, Impact Play, Large Cock, M/M, Masochism, Paddling, Rimming, Top Stephan von Namtzen, Way more German than I originally intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:27:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24152065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressPandora/pseuds/MistressPandora
Summary: Lord John Grey and Stephan von Namtzen have an arrangement. Sometimes, when Grey has exhausted himself in the execution of his many duties, von Namtzen offers him freedom from worry for a time, relieving Grey of his burdens. Caring for him in their own particular way.
Relationships: Lord John Grey/Stephan von Namtzen
Comments: 16
Kudos: 53
Collections: Outlander Bingo Challenge





	Please, Master Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iihappydaysii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iihappydaysii/gifts).



> Thanks for the request, Ash!
> 
> This fills my Outlander 2020 Bingo square: **Hand-feeding**

This hadn’t been Lord John Grey’s specific intent when he’d accepted Stephan von Namzten’s invitation to dinner at the Graf’s home in London. But if Grey was being perfectly honest with himself, he needed it. Stephan had known that of course. He always knew. 

He’d known weeks ago, when Stephan had first suggested that Grey could benefit from more than mere casual distraction. “You care for everyone, John,” he’d said. “Allow me to take the burden from your shoulders for a time.” 

When Grey had arrived for dinner this evening, Stephan had informed him that he’d dismissed his servants for the night and that they would take their meal in his private rooms. The arch of his fair eyebrows had made the suggestion clear: _I will care for you in our own particular way, if you wish it._

Grey _had_ wished it, had felt the tension acutely in his shoulders when he’d removed his coat and boots, and knew that Stephan’s firm hand could ease it. Under von Namtzen’s gently appraising gaze, he’d further stripped to just his breeches and shirt, throat and feet bare. Stephan had taken a chair at the small table already laid for supper, and gestured to the blue velvet cushion on the floor to his right. “Come kneel beside me, John. If you please.”

The carpet was plush and cool beneath his feet, the cushion comfortable under his knees. With a jingle of steel hardware, Stephan picked up a black leather collar from the table and showed it to Grey. Though of a similar style, it was far too large for one of Stephan’s dachshunds, and Grey recognized it, of course. This was his collar. Luxurious black leather with shining steel rivets and rings, custom made to Stephan’s exact specifications. _So it began._

“Assist me,” von Namtzen said, a soft command.

With a murmured, “Yes, Sir,” Grey helped von Namtzen settle the collar around his own neck, feeding the end through the buckle. 

Stephan buckled it with his one hand, adjusting it so the cold metal ring fell in the center of Grey’s throat. He stroked the top of Grey’s head, giving a _tsk_ of disapproval when his hand found the ribbon binding his hair. He pulled the ribbon free and combed his fingers through John’s locks, letting it fall loose and wild about his shoulders. Stephan smiled down at him. “That is better, is it not, _mein Junge?”_

“Yes. Thank you, Sir.” Grey swallowed. The collar was loose enough that Stephan could easily fit two fingers under it, but tight enough that the act of swallowing put a modest pressure on his throat. It was a firm embrace, a constant, steadying touch that began to squeeze the tension from his body. Grey closed his eyes and took a deep breath, felt the supple leather give only a little, and opened his eyes to Stephan’s approving nod. 

“You may speak freely, if you wish,” von Namtzen said. “Or you may remain quiet after you repeat to me our arrangement.”

“I will trust you to ensure that my needs are met, Sir, and you will ensure that this trust is rightly earned,” Grey replied. “I will inform you immediately if my needs are not met or should they change. I am in control but you are in command.”

Stephan nodded. “Very good.”

“I would prefer to remain quiet, Sir.” Grey had had enough of speaking today. Words and words and more words. John was out of words. He ached for the comfort of a quiet meal, of companionship without pressure, relief without responsibility.

“As you wish it. You need only speak to express a need or to answer a direct question, John.” Stephan selected a morsel with his fingers from one of the plates before him and offered it to Grey, who opened his mouth to accept it. Butterkäse, so soft and creamy that it practically melted on his tongue. 

Grey savored the mild flavor and decadent texture of the cheese, swallowing it with a contented sigh. He hadn’t been entirely sure he was hungry, but the butterkäse whetted his appetite and now his stomach rumbled, He’d eaten nothing since his early breakfast. Grey smiled at von Namtzen, who picked up another bite with his fingers. Of course, Stephan had known _that_ as well.

Stephan held a slice of smoked German sausage with a small dab of mustard to Grey’s lips. “It is not English mustard,” he said in a low voice. “It is sweeter. You will enjoy it.”

John accepted the food onto his tongue, closing his lips around Stephan’s fingers and suckling them clean. The green flavor of dill burst across his tongue, chased by the pepper-sweet tang of the mustard. He hummed with pleasure as he chewed and swallowed it down. The sensation of his throat working under the gentle constraint of the collar sent an electric thrill through his body. Under other circumstances, Grey wouldn’t have permitted himself to so vocally enjoy a meal. But he had left the demands of his social status at the door and here, kneeling at Stephan’s feet, he was free to simply be John, a creature of sensation. 

“Yes, I thought you would enjoy that, _mein Junge_ ,” Stephan said. 

“Thank you, Sir,” John answered. They did not often take their meals in this manner, but when they did, Stephan always tended to Grey before himself, only popping the occasional bite into his own mouth while John chewed. 

Without asking, Stephan brought a glass of white wine to Grey’s lips and tilted it carefully. John knew better than to attempt to use his hands at the table unless he was told to, and a few drops of wine trickled down his chin. It was rather dry for a riesling, crisp and refreshing, and John drank until Stephan took the glass away. He licked his lips and Stephan returned with a linen napkin, swiping it over John’s chin. Grey leaned into his touch, craving more. Stephan knew, of course, and took Grey’s chin in his hand, leaning down to kiss his lips. John inhaled the scent of him, riesling and orange zest and pepper. Stephan smiled down at him and brushed a lock of John’s hair away from his face. “Your worries are becoming less now, yes?”

John nodded. “Yes, Sir. Thank you.” He flexed his jaw, realizing he’d been clenching it most of the day. 

Stephan kissed him again. “Do not thank me yet, _mein Liebchen_. We have only just begun.”

They passed their meal in comfortable silence, Stephan patiently feeding each bite to Grey, offering him sips of wine, kissing his lips clean and wiping his chin with the napkin. They fell easily into a soothing rhythm, the motions easy and predictable and a balm to John’s frayed nerves. Grey found himself lulled into a kind of trance by it, the collar around his neck a shield from the world. The savory flavors of wurst with tangy-sweet mustard and pretzels gave way to slices of orange and Grey sucked the juice from von Namtzen’s fingers. _“Sehr gut, mein Liebchen. So gut für mich,”_ Stephan murmured, swiping his thumb over Grey’s lower lip. 

At last, von Namtzen wiped his fingers clean on the napkin, took John’s chin in his hand, and kissed him thoroughly. John wasn’t sure whose tongue carried the taste of the oranges but he closed his eyes and let it float him away. 

“I will help you to stand and you will remove the rest of your clothes. And then we will finish clearing that pretty head of yours. _Versteh?”_

"Yes, Sir," Grey said, nodding. 

Stephan stood from his chair and offered his intact arm as leverage. John took it and climbed to his feet, his knees watery from so long on them and the drowsy sensation from his almost meditative state. Stephan supported him until he was confident on his feet, then hooked a finger through the ring of Grey’s collar and yanked him up on his toes until their mouths collided. He released Grey, lips wet and breathless. “Clothes off now, John. I wish to see all of you. All that is mine.”

Grey obeyed, folding his breeches and shirt neatly alongside the rest of his clothes. Stephan waited for him at the doorway leading into his bedroom, holding the blue cushion in his hand. He gave John a warm smile, eyes roving over Grey's naked body. "So very lovely, my sweet John," Stephan said, expression genuinely fond.

John followed him through the door, turning left toward the comfortably burning hearth and its single chair facing the flames. 

Von Namtzen dropped the cushion onto the floor in front of the chair and faced Grey. “Undress me, please, John.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Grey replied, and set to work on the buttons of his waistcoat. He folded everything neatly, as he had been instructed the first time that they’d danced to this song, laying it on top of a chest against the wall. 

When Grey turned back around to Stephan, he was lowering himself into the chair by the fire. “Come, _mein Junge_ ,” he said. “On your knees again.”

Grey approached Stephan, grateful to be relieved of even such a simple decision as where to sit, and once again sank to his knees on the cushion between his feet. The hardware of his collar jingled with the motion, caressing his throat in a firm reminder of their agreement. 

Stephan patted his own naked thigh in invitation. “Rest your head now,” he said. 

John obeyed, laying his head against von Namtzen’s thigh, his large prick close enough to touch if Grey stuck out his tongue. He stared at it, considered doing just that, when Stephan took himself in hand and brushed the head against John’s lips.

“Open your mouth,” Stephan said. “There is my good boy. You like to hold that for me, do you not? _Sehr gut, mein Liebchen_.” 

Though he couldn’t fit all of it in his mouth, not by a longshot, Stephan’s cock was a heavy and comforting weight on Grey’s tongue. Von Namtzen rested his hand on Grey’s head and stroked his hair, muttering praises over and over again, some in English, some in German. 

Grey might have dozed there, lulled by the truly decadent combination of Stephan’s gentle voice, his tender caress, his cock warming in Grey’s mouth, and the reassuring embrace of the collar on his throat. Stephan spoke of his dogs in whispered German, slow and rhythmic, dropping sweet nothings like kisses on Grey's ears. The room had no clock, no ticking to mark the seconds, only the crackle of the fire, and Grey lost track of time. He might have knelt there holding von Namtzen's half-firm cock in his mouth for hours, and gladly would if given the opportunity. 

Stephan's hand settled onto the bend of Grey's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Oh, my dear John," he said with concern. "Your muscles are still very tight." Stephan massaged his neck and shoulder, strong hands digging into Grey's muscles and working ruthlessly at the knots there.

It hurt, in the kind of way that a cure always hurt, pain that promised relief if one could but persevere. John closed his eyes against the discomfort, moaned at the pleasure of the ache, swallowing around Stephan's thick cock with a suck.

Von Namtzen inhaled sharply and shivered, pinching Grey’s shoulder hard in reprimand, making him whimper. Even to his own ears, John wasn't certain if the sound he made was meant to be protest or encouragement. 

But Stephan knew, of course. He squeezed John's shoulder hard again, letting out his own low moan when Grey suckled his prick. "Easy, _mein Junge,"_ he said, brushing a wild lock of hair from Grey's face. “You need more. The paddle, I think. Yes?”

Grey closed his eyes and let out a grateful sigh, nuzzling his cheek against Stephan’s thigh as he nodded. Von Namtzen’s cock was growing hard in his mouth and it took a great deal of effort not to suckle it until Stephan spilled down his throat. But Stephan had not given that command yet, so John refrained. Barely. Grey loved when Stephan took pleasure from his mouth, loved the way his huge cock stretched John’s throat and made his voice rough the next day. And the taste of his seed was remarkably sweet, likely a result of von Namtzen’s frequent habit of devouring oranges. The thought made Grey’s mouth water. He considered the consequence for disobedience, which was to be brought to the brink of climax over and over only to have his release choked off at the root. It might just be worth it.

With a strong fist in John’s hair, Stephan pulled him off his cock and John licked his lips, already missing the weight in his mouth. “You will kneel on the bed on all fours,” von Namtzen said, low voice permitting no argument. “And you will wait for me. Do you understand, _mein Liebchen?”_

John’s mouth went dry with anticipation, his own prick growing stiff. “Yes, Sir,” he said.

“Very good, John.” Stephan drew him in and kissed him breathless. “Go now. You have your orders.”

Grey rose, his collar jingling, the leather warm against his skin. Stephan’s bed was quite broad, comfortable, laid with a plush green duvet and an inviting quantity of pillows. The duvet wrinkled under his hands and knees as Grey got into position, flexing his fingers over the downy material. He could hear Stephan moving about the room out of his view, a cabinet opening and closing, and then the stump of his left arm caressed John’s hip. A shiver ran through him from the touch, the effect of which was intensified when Stephan pressed his warm lips to the swell of Grey’s arse. Then there was the cold smoothness of the leather paddle stroking the back of one thigh. 

“We will try ten, I think,” Stephan said behind him. His voice was low and soothing, as it always was when he sensed that Grey was keyed up. “I want you to count them aloud. You will tell me if you need me to stop. _Versteh?”_

“Yes, Sir,” Grey replied and settled himself more comfortably on his knees. Stephan’s touch was gone then, and John waited, muscles tight and cock twitching with anticipation. 

The paddle came down on his arse with a loud crack. It stung, making Grey suck in a sudden breath, his belly clenched tight. “One, Sir,” he gasped.

Stephan tugged on the back of John’s collar, straining his windpipe. “ _Auf Deutsch, bitte,”_ he ordered, releasing the collar as suddenly as he’d pulled on it.

_“Es tut mir leid,”_ Grey apologized. _“Eins, mein Herr.”_ The first blow hadn’t been very hard, but his head swam in the sea of sensation and emotion and speaking a foreign language, however simple the phrases, was disorienting.

The second blow came without warning, harder, the sting against his buttocks more intense. A violent shiver ran through Grey as he bit out, _“Zwei, mein Herr.”_

_“Sehr gut, mein Junge,”_ von Namtzen said, stroking the warmed paddle over the side of John’s thigh. “You are so beautiful for me like this. So good. Do not hold back, John. No one can hear you but me.”

The next one was harder still and tears sprang to Grey’s eyes, clouding his vision. _“Drei, Herr,”_ he whimpered. _Seven more. God._ He tensed himself for the next smack, but instead felt Stephan’s hand on his welting flesh. Strong fingers kneaded his protesting skin and spread him open. Grey felt the unmistakable warm wetness of Stephan’s tongue teasing his entrance. “Christ,” Grey moaned as it worked its way inside him. Then it was gone and one oily-slick digit pressed into him.

“Do not fret, my sweet John,” von Namtzen said. “I will help you to open for me.”

Grey let out a whimper when the touch was gone. Another crack and John gasped, the force of the blow pitching him forward, though he caught himself. _“Vier, Herr.”_ He barely had time to recover before he was hit again, the pain sending tingling ripples of gooseflesh down his arms and legs. _“Fünf, mein Herr,”_ he counted, voice shaking. John let his head hang limp between his arms, saw the droplets on the duvet from the lazy droplets leaking from his prick. The flesh of his arse burned and he could feel the precise shape of the paddle in the pattern of the throbbing ache. He wanted more, needed more, needed to be pushed to his limit and then right over it.

This time two slippery fingers worked inside of Grey, stretching and sending tendrils of hedonistic delight through him. He gasped and moaned, given over entirely to Stephan. The pain from the paddle was fading and John whimpered, his collar jingling as he squirmed.

Then the fingers were gone and John was empty. He started to turn his body to check that Stephan was still there, but of course he was. The crack of the paddle colliding with his flesh reverberated in the room, the sound coming back to him before the pain did. Grey cried out, a single tear rolling down his cheek. _"Sechs. Mein Herr."_ His voice began to crack around the edges but it didn't break. Grey was struck suddenly with shame to be so affected by the pain. 

Von Namtzen must have sensed this—he always knew—and he paused, smoothed his warm hand over Grey's burning flesh, and laid a slow kiss directly in the middle of the welt blossoming there. "So lovely," Stephan said with sincere wonder as his two fingers slid inside Grey once again. "Do not hold back. The sounds you make are music to my ears. Do you feel?" The silky smooth shaft of von Namtzen's prick slid against John's leg, hard and moist with drops of seed at the tip. "Please answer, John. Would you like this inside you?"

Normally, Grey’s honest answer would have been _Not particularly, no_. But Stephan, through his firm hand, was gentle and kind. He possessed the unique ability to lead Grey confidently to the point of pleasure, and then stretch his capacity for ecstasy, but never break it. Stephan had earned Grey’s absolute trust. 

“Yes, Sir,” Grey said. “Yes, I would like that very much. Please.”

Von Namtzen gave a pleased hum, stroking John’s arse with the side of his left arm. “John, _mein Junge,_ I wish you could see how you look to me." He worked in a third, slick finger, gentling Grey open, readying his body to accept Stephan's considerable cock. Grey moaned, the full sensation of being stretched sending delectable jolts of lightning through him. 

"Your skin is so fair,” Stephan said. “It becomes such an incredible shade of red from the paddle. _Du bist so schön.”_ He removed his fingers and Grey whined, bracing himself for the next swing of the paddle.

_Crack_ . John cried out, red pain careening over his flesh, white hot behind his eyes. He was dizzy with it, gasping and panting, his cock aching and leaking desperately, and tears blurred his vision, making his cheeks wet. _“S-sie-sieben. Mein Herr._ God in heaven,” he said, whimpering. 

The paddle caressed Grey’s flank. “Do you need to stop, _mein Liebchen?”_

“Christ, no,” Grey said in a rush. “No, Sir, please. I would… very much like to have ten. Please.”

“It delights me to hear that, my very sweet John.” 

Another blow, the hardest yet, and Grey had to catch himself to keep from pitching forward to the mattress. His breath fought its way out of him in broken sobs past the embrace of his collar, tears flowing freely from his eyes. _“Acht, mein Herr,”_ he said, barely a whisper. It would hurt to sit until teatime tomorrow and the pain was intoxicating, hammering away at the cold dam of bone-weariness and misery that he’d brought with him this evening. Grey’s arms trembled, elbows threatening to buckle.

The next blow hit him before the shockwaves of the last one had faded and Grey’s arms gave out. _“Neun. Herr._ Jesus,” he bit out, voice muffled in the duvet that was quickly growing wet with his tears. He felt the torment of the paddle deep in his bones now, the skin of his arse ablaze with the sting. But the pain and Stephan’s constant string of praises and reassurances and encouragement in half a dozen languages promised relief if he would just persevere. Grey’s worries and burdens poured out of him in his tears and the sobs that began to wrack his trembling shoulders.

“Perfect, my John,” Stephan said, voice steady enough to tame a lion—or Grey. _“Sehr gut, mein Junge._ You are almost there.” His hand was gentle on Grey’s burning flesh, the contact searing him to his core. “Can you continue, John?”

Grey heaved himself back up into position, arms trembling but holding his weight. He nodded. “Yes, sir. Please.”

_“Wunderbar.”_ Stephan kissed John’s welts again and Grey thought that surely he would burn his lips on his flaming skin. “I am most pleased, John. So very good, so very strong.” He plunged his three fingers into John again, the discomfort gone now, only pleasure and relief in the intrusion.

Then Grey was empty again. And the paddle made a faint whooshing sound before it hit him. _“Zehn!”_ John cried. “Fucking Christ! _Zehn, mein Herr!”_ Grey collapsed onto the bed, knees drawn up close to his body, groaning and sucking big gulps of air into his lungs at intervals. He took his own cock in his hand. Just a few strokes would be all it took.

Stephan’s firm hand clamped down on Grey’s wrist and pulled it away. “Not yet, sweet John. That’s it, very good.” Von Namtzen’s hand caressed up and down John’s arm, soothing him before he rolled John over onto his back, a pillow beneath him. The mattress dipped as Stephan knelt on the bed between John’s spread legs, caressing the inside of John’s thighs, his hips, his stomach. He leaned forward to smooth Grey’s wild hair away from his face, comforting, tender, reminding John of how safe and cared for he was. 

Grey looked up into Stephan's eyes, affection and tenderness grounding him, bringing him back from the wild edge of madness. Without a word, Stephan kissed him, claimed Grey's mouth with his, seemed to take the oxygen directly from his lungs. The broad head of his cock, slick with oil, nudged against Grey's entrance and slowly sank inside. 

John gasped and moaned as Stephan penetrated him, inch by generous, careful inch. He had told John not to hold back and he couldn't now if he wanted to. The collar felt tight against his throat.

"Very good, lovely, perfection," von Namtzen repeated over and over again. "My sweet John, _mein Liebchen."_ The hair on Stephan's legs felt rough against John's heated and abused flesh, an echo of the paddle. 

"Please, Sir," Grey begged. "Please don't be gentle. Please. I promise not to break."

Stephan draped his body over Grey and kissed him again, the taste of oranges still on his tongue. "No, you won't break, will you, _mein Junge?"_ He began slowly, as he did with all things between them, thrusting in and out of Grey at a maddeningly luxurious pace.

Grey whined, tried to snap his hips up to meet Stephan's thrusts. But Stephan grabbed his collar and pulled him to an awkward angle, forcing him to stop. John gasped, his prick twitching between them with interest. 

"You will be patient, John. You are in control but I am in command. _Verstehst du?"_

_"Jawohl,"_ Grey said. "I'm sorry, Sir. Please. More."

Stephan released Grey's collar and smoothed his hand over his hair again. John leaned into the touch, panting. "Oh, my dear John. How pretty you beg for me," von Namtzen said, breathless, and picked up the pace. 

Each hard thrust punched the air out of John, reinvigorating the sting of the paddle, and he cried out, digging his blunt nails into Stephan’s shoulders. Von Namtzen wrapped his fingers around Grey’s prick, stroking him roughly. “Come apart for me, sweet John,” he said.

Grey did, ecstasy and relief tearing through him, pouring out of him, his own seed thick and warm on his stomach and chest. “God fucking Christ. Sir!” he cried. He collapsed back onto the duvet, sticky with sweat and seed and tears, arms too weak to hold on any longer.

“Very, very good, John,” Stephan said, voice a low growl now. He took hold of Grey’s collar under his chin and yanked him up roughly. Kissing him, Stephan filled Grey’s mouth with his tongue as his cock filled his arse, an unbroken loop of decadent intrusion. The collar bit into the back of Grey’s neck, supporting his weight. John felt neither the inclination nor the strength to hold himself up, and he surrendered entirely to Stephan, relinquishing possession of his own body to von Namtzen’s pleasure. 

Stephan growled into Grey's mouth, rhythm stuttering to a halt as he held Grey close, emptying himself deep inside him. Von Namtzen lowered John back onto the mattress and released his collar before easing his cock free.

Grey whined, his hand clamping onto Stephan’s leg, wordlessly begging him not to move. 

“Have no fear, _mein Liebchen,”_ Stephan said, kissing Grey’s sweating forehead. “I am caring for you. Be still now.” The bed shifted and he was gone, the air cooling his sweat-damp and seed-sticky skin. 

John rolled onto his side, moaning at the arch in his backside, inside and out. He would feel this for a few days, a reminder that would strike him randomly in polite company, his secret indulgence. 

Von Namtzen left the bedroom but came back into the light from the hearth a moment later, a small plate in his hand. He set this aside and smiled down at John, sitting on the bed next to him, back against the headboard. “Lay your head in my lap, my sweet John,” Stephan said, patting his bare thigh. 

Moving under his own power didn’t sound particularly pleasant, but being close to Stephan did. John shifted closer and rested his head on Stephan’s lap, looking up at him through heavy eyelids, breathing in the tangy smell of their sweat and musky release. With a flick of his arm, Stephan tossed a quilt over John’s body, smoothed the cool fabric over his chest, stroked his fingers down Grey’s cheek, over his forehead. “You are feeling better?”

Grey nodded drowsily. “Yes.” He felt as if he floated apart from himself, a feather on the breeze, anchored only by Stephan’s touch. The tension was gone. The only pain that remained was from the paddle. Grey was cured.

“I am glad.” Stephan took something from the plate and held it to John’s lips. “You care for all others, often at the expense of yourself.” 

Grey opened his mouth to take a bite. It was an enormous strawberry, cool and sweet, dredged in thick, golden honey. The honey coated his lips and juice ran from the corners of his mouth. Stephan fed the rest to him, careful to keep the stem out of Grey’s mouth, then leaned down and sucked the honey from his lips. 

“I very much enjoy caring for you, _mein Junge,_ in our own particular way,” von Namtzen whispered. He fed Grey one strawberry after another, bending after each to kiss away the lingering stickiness. 

At last, Stephan allowed Grey to suckle the honey and juice from his fingers, then unbuckled Grey’s collar with the deft fingers of his right hand. The air was cool against John’s throat, the muscle memory of the leather’s confinement like the ghost of its embrace. Stephan settled them comfortably beneath the bedclothes and pulled Grey close, holding him tucked securely under his strong arm. He kissed the top of Grey’s head. “Sleep soundly now, my very good John. _Gute Nacht.”_


End file.
